The notion of a Tunisian “model” is a convenience for Western observers who still hope that all is not lost from the once heady optimism of the Arab Spring. It offers, however, little solace to Tunisians themselves, who sense—correctly—that their democracy remains imperfect. Tunisians, who haven’t lived under the sheer brutality of Egyptian dictatorship or the collapsing state structures of Yemen, aren’t comparing themselves to those countries; they are comparing themselves—rightfully—to what they wish they could be.

In our conversations with young Tunisians, we have often pointed out that Tunisia, unlike its neighbors, is at least relatively democratic. Our claims are often met with skepticism. The Tunisian rapper DJ Costa told one of us that: “We don’t have democracy in Tunisia. It’s like a man whose skin is dirty. For months he hasn’t washed himself, and then, one day, he puts on nice, expensive clothes. But you know him, who he really is.”

Well, who is he? Tunisia’s democracy is indeed struggling. It is failing to improve the economy and reduce corruption, overreacting to terrorist attacks and postponing important but potentially polarizing decisions. But Tunisia nonetheless continues to stand out in ways that, for the region at least, are unusual. That hundreds of Tunisians came out to protest the visit of Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman isn’t necessarily surprising. But the images still were striking considering how much rarer such protests—or protests, in general—have become in the Arab world after the Arab Spring turned dark.

Under democracy, Tunisians enjoy the freedom to protest Mohammed bin Salman for Saudi Arabia’s assassination of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi, its devastating war in Yemen and its crackdown on women activists. Rule of law, meanwhile, isn’t just a nice idea but something real and practiced. The Tunisian Journalists’ Syndicate filed a lawsuit urging Tunisia to refer Mohammed bin Salman to the International Criminal Court. An independent judiciary responded by beginning an investigation. And perhaps most importantly, Tunisians could do all of this without fear of government retribution.

Tunisia represents both an exception and a threat to a new but ever-authoritarian Middle East.

These events are a small but powerful reminder of what Tunisia, despite its flaws and its struggles, can still teach us. It may not be a model, but it is, and can continue to be, an inspiration. And this is why—merely by existing—Tunisia represents both an exception and a threat to a new but ever-authoritarian Middle East. It’s no mistake that the only Arab Spring democracy is the one where people are protesting Mohammed bin Salman. Tunisia is the near-opposite of Saudi Arabia.

The Saudis’ killing of Khashoggi was the culmination of a long list of sins and offenses, each of which have now come under greater scrutiny.

Critics have focused on the Yemen war and understandably so. The humanitarian catastrophe unfolding there is perhaps the most egregious example of MBS’s recklessness. Yet Saudi Arabia’s increasingly destructive impact on the rest of the region predates MBS. From 2011, the Saudi authorities worked tirelessly to strengthen dictatorships in the wake of the Arab Spring. Saudi Arabia intervened militarily to crush the uprising in Bahrain, and provided billions to shore up the monarchies in Morocco, Jordan and Oman. In his new book “Into the Hands of the Soldiers,” New York Times journalist David Kirkpatrick provides new and damning details on just how instrumental Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates were in fomenting the 2013 military coup that ended Egypt’s democratic experiment. In Egypt, they had a willing partner of the military general Abdel Fatah al-Sissi. In Tunisia they thankfully did not, and have—so far—been unable to push Tunisia off its democratic path despite considerable economic and diplomatic pressure.

Today, Tunisia offers lessons not just to its neighbors but also to the United States and Europe on how to deal with strongmen such as Mohammed bin Salman—not with business-as-usual, but with criticism, accountability and a faith that justice, however slow and uneven, can be done.

Four years after its creation in the 2014 constitution, Tunisia’s Constitutional Court remains vacant. Tunisia, the one democracy to emerge from the Arab Spring, has been unable to find agreement on the 12 judges of the court. Today, Tunisia needs to prioritize the court’s creation in order to lock in its democratic reforms ahead of the 2019 elections.

The absence of a constitutional court was felt acutely this month, when President Beji Caid Essebsi rejected Prime Minister Youssef Chahed’s proposed cabinet reshuffle. By most readings of the constitution, Chahed did not need Essebsi’s consent, as the reshuffle did not include the ministers of defense or foreign affairs. But Tunisia had no constitutional court to adjudicate the competing claims. Thankfully, Essebsi chose to put country over party and swore in Chahed’s cabinet on November 14. While Tunisia avoided a constitutional crisis, the episode highlighted the need for a constitutional court.

Under the former dictatorship of Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, Tunisia had a Constitutional Council, but it was dissolved in the wake of the 2011 revolution that ousted Ben Ali. Initially, the lack of a constitutional court held over from autocracy was a structural advantage for Tunisia’s transition to democracy. In Egypt, for instance, a Supreme Constitutional Court that had been packed with supporters of the former dictatorship dissolved both the democratically-elected parliament and the constituent assembly. In Tunisia, had Ben Ali’s Constitutional Council also been held over, it may have likewise dissolved its country’s constituent assembly, which had overstayed its pledged one-year mandate. Such a ruling would have plunged Tunisia’s transition into an even deeper political crisis than it already had.

Instead, the constituent assembly remained and completed Tunisia’s new constitution in 2014. That constitution mandated the creation of a constitutional court in one year. In the meantime, Tunisia created a temporary body—the “Provisional Instance to Review the Constitutionality of Draft Laws”—but it can rule only on draft laws and cannot, for instance, adjudicate disputes over the president and prime minister’s powers. To create the Constitutional Court, the parliament, the president, and the Supreme Judicial Council—an independent body overseeing the appointment and promotion of judges—must each appoint four of the 12 judges of the court.

Almost five years later, only one judge has been confirmed by the parliament. Part of the problem is that choosing the judges is a very difficult, polarizing process, just like it is in the United States. But part of it may also have stemmed from the ruling coalition’s desire to avoid polarizing issues in the name of stability and consensus.

The lack of a court has been a tremendous loss for Tunisia’s democracy. Without this check on the ruling coalition, the Tunisian government was able to pass a series of problematic laws, most notably a restrictive counterterrorism law and a blanket amnesty for corrupt officials from the Ben Ali regime. Had a true court been in place, it may have been able to challenge the constitutionality of these laws. Article 80 of the constitution also empowers the constitutional court to end states of emergency, which the Tunisian government has repeatedly invoked in its heavy-handed war on terrorism.

Over the next year, the need for a constitutional court is likely only to grow. As a result of the cabinet reshuffle, President Essebsi and Prime Minister Chahed now come from two entirely different power bases. That divided government sets the stage for future tensions regarding the distribution of power between the two executives. Having a constitutional court would be an important step in resolving such power disputes.

Perhaps the most important reason for such a court is even more forward-looking: to lock in Tunisia’s democratic progress before the 2019 parliamentary and presidential elections. While the candidates have not yet been declared, the conditions may be ripe for the emergence of a populist strongman. Tunisians have become increasingly frustrated with democracy for failing to improve the economy. According to an Afrobarometer survey, only 46 percent of Tunisians today find democracy to be the most preferable form of a government, down from 70 percent in 2013. Meanwhile, support has grown considerably for military rule (47 percent), one-party rule (41 percent), and a strongman who “abolishes the parliament and elections” entirely (35 percent).

To prevent Tunisia from following the path of Brazil, Turkey, Hungary, and so many other backsliding democracies today, the Tunisian government must prioritize the creation of the Constitutional Court. A court with professional, pro-democracy judges could be crucial to ensuring that a future president remains loyal to Tunisia’s progressive constitution and preserves its status as the one success story of the Arab Spring. Tunisia cannot afford to wait any longer in creating the Constitutional Court.

The Tunisian authorities responded by doubling down on a coercive approach to fighting terrorism. Hours after the bombing, the president of the Tunisian parliament proposed accelerating consideration of a bill that would grant the security forces a freer hand in their operations. The bill, titled “Rejection of Assaults against the Armed Forces,” is framed as protecting security forces from attacks. But it could also silence criticism of their conduct by criminalizing “denigration” of the armed forces and the publication of any national security-related “information, data, or documents” by journalists or whistleblowers. Another section authorizes the use of lethal force against protesters not only in self-defense but also in the defense of property or public order. It is little surprise that the bill has been slammed by human rights watchdogs as “reinforcing a culture of impunity.”

Terrorist attacks often lead governments to enhance police powers in the name of security, and Tunisia is no exception. In 2015, after a mass shooting at a beach resort in Sousse, the Tunisian parliament passed a counterterrorism law that allows authorities to detain terrorism suspects without charges and without a lawyer for 15 days. In 2017, after the killing of a traffic cop, police unions lobbied parliament to adopt the Rejection of Assaults bill, threatening to stop providing security for political party leaders if they did not. While the bill was pulled under domestic and international criticism, it is now back on the agenda after Monday’s attack. While democracies are often prone to overreach after terrorist attacks, the vagueness of the bill—with references to the all-encompassing “public order”—is more reminiscent of the very Arab authoritarian regimes that democratic Tunisia aspires to surpass.

Tunisia today needs to resist the urge to grant security forces an even freer hand in countering terrorism. Since 2013, police tactics have become increasingly heavy-handed, especially toward Tunisians who appear to be Salafis, such as men with long beards. The World Organization against Torture reported 631 cases of torture in Tunisia between 2013 and 2016, while Amnesty International has highlighted excessive use of force and arbitrary travel restrictions, often imposed “in a discriminatory manner based on appearance, religious practices or previous criminal convictions.”

Such police abuse is a cause of terrorism in Tunisia, not a solution. A 2018 study by the Tunisian Institute for Strategic Studies, which interviewed 83 terrorists in Tunisian prisons, found that 90 percent of them had been radicalized through state repression. Many “identified the post-2013 state restrictions on Salafi practices and organizations in Tunisia as seminal propellants driving them toward radicalization and political violence.

One need not look further than this week’s suicide bombing to see how a bill facilitating police abuse would be counterproductive. Although her precise motivations are unknown, the details hint at frustration with police brutality. The bomber targeted police officers and moments before was seen in a demonstration for Aymen Othmani, a young man who was shot and killed by customs agents last week.

The proposed 2019 state budget prioritizes increasing the budgets of the ministries for economic development, employment and industry in lieu of the Ministry of the Interior, which Tunisia deserves credit for. Reversing those priorities in the wake of Monday’s attack would be a mistake and a signal that Tunisia’s democratic backsliding represents something more serious. Unemployment, underdevelopment and the dignity deficit that results remain contributors to extremism in Tunisia. Monday’s bomber had received a bachelor’s degree in business English but could not find employment for four years other than occasional work as a shepherdess. It is plausible that unfulfilled economic aspirations may have contributed to her willingness to commit suicide.

It is easy to understand the desire to empower the security forces after a terrorist attack. But such an approach would be counterproductive, particularly at a time when Tunisia already finds itself vulnerable to strongman appeals. According to the 2018 Afrobarometer survey, 47 percent of Tunisians approve or strongly approve of military rule. Tunisia, as one of the Middle East’s only democracies, must remain vigilant in protecting its democratic gains, particularly when there is no evidence that undoing them would actually help fight terrorism. Tunisia would be better off responding to the attack with security-sector reform and more, not less, oversight of police misconduct. This would be in line with Tunisia’s democratic aspirations and would also help temper one of the major grievances that, too often, seems to push some Tunisians one step closer to violence.

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https://www.brookings.edu/blog/order-from-chaos/2018/10/15/tunisia-just-lost-its-anchor-of-stability-thats-a-good-thing/Tunisia just lost its anchor of stability. That’s a good thing.http://webfeeds.brookings.edu/~/574890766/0/brookingsrss/topics/tunisia~Tunisia-just-lost-its-anchor-of-stability-That%e2%80%99s-a-good-thing/
Mon, 15 Oct 2018 16:11:19 +0000https://www.brookings.edu/?p=542303

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By Sharan Grewal, Shadi Hamid

On September 24, Tunisian President Beji Caid Essebsi announced the end of a four-year alliance between his secular party, Nidaa Tounes, and the Islamist party Ennahda. The alliance between Essebsi and Ennahda’s Rached Ghannouchi began in a series of meetings in August 2013 that helped diffuse a crisis sparked by a political assassination. After Essebsi and his party won the 2014 elections, the consensus with the runner-up Ennahda was then codified in a grand coalition that has ruled to this day.

The two leaders, as different as can be, have been lauded for putting country over party. Who, after all, would argue against sharing power in a region where it’s so rarely shared? But while the world was celebrating Tunisia for its very real successes, the darker side of consensus was coming to light.

The alliance between Tunisia’s two largest parties has generally been justified on two fronts. First, Essebsi and Ghannouchi sought to quell the polarization that plagued Tunisia in 2013 and thereby prevent the transition from following Egypt down the road to democratic breakdown. Second, they believed the economic and security challenges facing the country required political stability and unity.

While the agreements struck in 2013 likely prevented a democratic collapse, the desire for consensus since then has undermined democracy in its own right. First, it has precluded a strong opposition. With over 80 percent of the parliament in the ruling coalition, there has been no real opposition to exert a check on the government. Accordingly, the ruling coalition has passed a series of problematic laws criticized by domestic and international civil society organizations for backsliding on human rights.

In 2015, for instance, Tunisia’s ruling coalition passed a counterterrorism law that featured an overly broad definition of terrorism—potentially encompassing peaceful political activity—and that allowed the detention of terrorism suspects without charge and without a lawyer for 15 days. In 2017, the coalition pushed through a reconciliation law that granted impunity to civil servants implicated in corruption under former autocrat Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, even as surveys showed that a majority of Tunisians opposed the law. Despite protests by activists and opposition from civil society organizations, neither law could be stopped or significantly amended without a strong political opposition, and there wasn’t one. The one party that was large and organized enough to put pressure on the government—Ennahda—was in the government, invested in the government’s success, and intent on deferring to Essebsi and Nidaa Tounes. Too much consensus facilitated the counterrevolutionary tendencies and interests of Nidaa Tounes and the remnants of the former autocratic regime.

A second consequence of the politics of consensus has been to weaken the very notion of democratic representation. In 2012, Ennahda and Nidaa Tounes represented two seemingly opposite ends of the political spectrum: the former more Islamist and pro-revolution, the latter more secular and supportive of the Ben Ali regime. Four years of consensus have made the parties nearly indistinguishable, both attempting to counter terrorism through a largely securitized approach and to boost economic growth through IMF reforms.

With few policy differences between their political parties, Tunisians no longer feel represented by them. The 2018 Afrobarometer survey found that 81 percent of Tunisians do “not feel close to any political party,” and 79 percent either would not vote or would not know who they would vote for if elections were held tomorrow. This disillusionment with political parties was reflected in this year’s municipal elections, which saw a turnout of only 34 percent and where the largest vote-getters were independents. The underdevelopment of the party system, without credible platforms and projects and without a real, public contestation of ideas, has been a major casualty of consensus. In our fieldwork in Tunisia, we have repeatedly heard the same complaint from young Tunisians: that Westerners too often fetishize the country’s democratic progress without realizing that Tunisians have spent the last several years seeing two parties—and two old men—forging agreements and making decisions far away from the public glare.

Without representation or a credible opposition, Tunisians are increasingly turning to other means of expressing their dissent with the political process. Tunisia saw intense nationwide protests in January, while the influential Tunisian General Labour Union has threatened nationwide strikes later this month. The very instability that Essebsi and Ghannouchi had hoped to avoid through consensus is instead manifesting in an even less controllable form through regular protests of angry, frustrated youth. Moreover, these protests and strikes are further damaging the economy, creating a self-reinforcing cycle of government failure and political instability.

In recent months, the alliance between Essebsi and Ghannouchi came under strain as the result of Ennahda’s refusal to sack Prime Minister Youssef Chahed, who had been competing with Essebsi’s son Hafedh Caid Essebsi for leadership of Nidaa Tounes. Ennahda’s Shura Council has for the first time also publicly disagreed with Essebsi on a policy issue, rejecting his proposal for equal inheritance in August. Essebsi then announced the end of his alliance with Ghannouchi, though it remains to be seen whether Ennahda will move to the opposition or form a divided government with a new pro-Chahed splinter party. Either way, what is clear is that Ennahda no longer feels the need to move in lockstep with Essebsi.

Normally, we might see the potential end of a power-sharing agreement—one that has so far been central to the democratic transition—as something to lament. But it may be good news for Tunisian democracy. Its nascent party system would benefit from having both parties retreat to their voter bases and develop competing political and economic agendas ahead of the 2019 parliamentary elections. Such a separation, as painful as it may be, may be the best way to consolidate Tunisia’s democracy.

In 1846, Tunisia became both the first Arab and the first Muslim country to abolish slavery. Now, it has become one of the first to criminalize racism.

On October 9, Tunisia’s parliament passed the “Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination” Act. The law, which defines and criminalizes racial discrimination, is an important step forward in defending the rights of the 10 to 15 percent of Tunisians who identify as black, as well as the country’s 60,000 sub-Saharan African immigrants.

The law originated in 2016 from the case of Sabrina, a black Tunisian who had been verbally abused on Habib Bourguiba Avenue in downtown Tunis. When attempting to report the crime, the police station turned her away due to “the lack of a specific law” against racism. Later, on December 25, 2016, three Congolese students were stabbed in a train station in Tunis. Amid demonstrations by civil society organizations, Prime Minister Youssef Chahed expressed his support for the law the next day.

These assaults on black Tunisians and migrants are not isolated incidents. The Al-Jazeera documentary “Tunisia’s Dirty Secret” details the racism many Tunisians face on a daily basis. Part of the film follows Hamza, who wore a hidden camera in his glasses. “Slave, have you been kicked out from your house?” one passerby sneers. “Have a shower you lazy bastard.” Some towns in the south of Tunisia, such as Sidi Makhlouf in Medenine, even have separate school buses for black children. Black Tunisians are also woefully under-represented in the public sphere. There is only one black member of parliament (Ennahdha’s Jamila Debbech Ksiksi) and the first black newsreader on state-run TV only appeared this year.

In part because the state has never recognized race, there are no official statistics on the number of black Tunisians, their socio-economic status, or the extent of racial discrimination. However, new survey data provide initial answers to these questions. In this year’s Afrobarometer, a nationally representative survey conducted in April-May 2018, the survey team for the first time recorded their respondents’ race, classifying 92 of 1199 respondents (about 8 percent) as black.

These survey data suggest that black Tunisians are socio-economically worse-off than other Tunisians (see Table 1). They are about 10 percentage points more likely than other Tunisians to live in rural areas, and are 15 percentage points less likely to own a radio, car, or computer. In terms of education, they are about 10 percent less likely to have completed primary school. Most strikingly, black Tunisians are almost twice as likely to be unemployed (42 percent) than other Tunisians (25 percent).

Table 1: Afrobarometer Survey (2018) Results by Race

Black Tunisians (%)

Other Tunisians (%)

Rural

39

31

Own a Radio

51

66

Own a Car

46

61

Own a Computer

38

50

Completed Primary School

52

62

Unemployed

42

25

The survey also uncovers potential evidence of differential treatment by state authorities. The Afrobarometer asked respondents: “When dealing with public officials, how much do you feel that they treat you with respect?” Black Tunisians were significantly less likely than other Tunisians to report “a lot of respect” (20 versus 31 percent), and more likely to report “no respect at all” (17 versus 11 percent), even when taking into account their lower socio-economic status.

Perhaps as a result of this treatment, black Tunisians in the survey appeared to avoid state authorities. They were less likely than other Tunisians to report approaching the state in the last year for official documents (21 versus 37 percent) or for social services (3 versus 15 percent), even when controlling for their socio-economic status.

The new anti-racism law, which passed by an almost unanimous vote in parliament, is intended to address this socio-economic and political discrimination of black Tunisians and migrants. The law prescribes one to three months in prison for racist language, and one to three years for inciting hatred, disseminating ideas about racial superiority, or supporting a racist organization or activity. The law also commits the state to undertake awareness and training campaigns, and creates a National Instance against Racial Discrimination to present an annual report to the parliament.

Its most important effect, however, may be to officially recognize that racism exists in Tunisia. To this day, denial permeates even the highest levels of government. Ahead of the vote, Member of Parliament Faycel Tebini asserted that “there is no racial discrimination in Tunisia” and called for the parliament “not to sow resentment and conflict in society.” The minister in charge of relations with the parliament aptly responded that “the importance of the bill…is to put an end to the denial of this crime.” By recognizing racism, the law—as the president of the Tunisian Forum for Economic and Social Rights put it—“is a turning point in Tunisia, as important as the decree abolishing slavery.”

On this issue, as with many others, Tunisia should serve as a model for the region. The Gulf, Egypt, Libya, and other Arab countries would do well to address discrimination of their racial minorities as well.

On August 13, Tunisian President Beji Caid Essebsi announced his intention to grant women equal rights to inheritance, reforming the existing code that limits women to half the share of men. Two weeks later, the Islamist party Ennahdha—Essebsi’s primary political rival—publicly rejected his proposal. With these initial positions staked out, the debate over inheritance is likely to become a major fault line ahead of the 2019 elections. It is therefore worth asking: Will Tunisia be able to find a compromise on inheritance reform?

Tunisia’s existing inheritance laws date back to the 1956 Personal Status Code. The Code, which banned polygamy and granted women equal rights to divorce, contributed to the legacy of Habib Bourguiba, Tunisia’s founding father, as a champion of women’s rights. Although the Code was progressive on many fronts, inheritance was a battle Bourguiba was unwilling to fight. The Code instead enshrines Islamic traditions almost verbatim, specifying not only the particular heirs that will receive inheritance, but the precise fractions to afford to each, generally following the Quranic injunction to grant women half the share of men.

Moreover, according to the Code, Tunisians cannot simply write a will allocating their inheritance equally. Article 179 permits individuals to distribute only one-third of their inheritance in a will, and cannot grant that third to any of their legally defined heirs (such as their daughters and sisters) without the consent of the others, provisions that stem from a hadith—reported actions and sayings of the Prophet—in Sahih al-Bukhari. Currently, Tunisians seeking to allocate their inheritance equally must instead transfer their property or wealth prior to their death.

Sixty years later, President Essebsi ventures where Bourguiba would not dare: the codification of equal inheritance. On August 13, 2017—National Women’s Day—Essebsi formed the Commission on Individual Liberties and Equality (COLIBE) to study what reforms needed to be made to bring laws in accordance with the 2014 constitution and international conventions. In June, the commission released its 235-page report, advocating for, among other issues, equal inheritance, decriminalization of homosexuality, and abolition of the death penalty. This National Women’s Day (2018), President Essebsi announced his agreement with the COLIBE report’s recommendation for equal inheritance, pledging to introduce a bill to the parliament in the coming months.

While most media coverage reported that Essebsi seeks to guarantee equal inheritance, what he and the COLIBE report in fact propose is a compromise. Essebsi has offered to allow individuals to continue to follow Islamic guidelines if they wish, but in the absence of such a will, to default to equal inheritance.

Even this compromise was too much for Ennahdha. On August 26, its Shura Council put out a statement rejecting Essebsi’s proposal as contradicting “peremptory texts in the Quran and Sunna.” Although Ennahdha has made considerable compromises in the past eight years—including not mentioning sharia in the new constitution and instead enshrining gender equality and freedom of conscience—it thus far appears unwilling to budge on inheritance.

To Ennahdha’s base, and perhaps to the majority of Tunisians, equal inheritance is a step too far.

What makes inheritance different from these previous compromises is how explicit the Quran is on this matter. Chapter 4, verse 11 declares: “for the male, the share of two females.” Subsequent verses detail, in no unclear terms, the consequences of disobeying: Whoever “transgresses [these] limits will be put into the Fire to abide eternally therein” (4:14). While Ennahdha had been able to justify its previous compromises on religious grounds, equal inheritance will be more difficult. To Ennahdha’s base, and perhaps to the majority of Tunisians, equal inheritance is a step too far. A recent survey by the International Republican Institute revealed that 63 percent of Tunisians—including 52 percent of women—oppose equal inheritance.

Despite this backlash, President Essebsi sees several interests in pursuing inheritance reform. If successful, it will allow the 91-year-old Essebsi to create a progressive legacy for himself much like that of Bourguiba’s. Even if not, focusing the nation’s attention on a divisive, “culture-war” issue ahead of the 2019 elections distracts voters from the deteriorating economy, potentially shoring up support for his ruling party, Nidaa Tounes. Finally, it puts pressure on Ennahdha, Essebsi’s political rival, to choose between pleasing its conservative base and cultivating its progressive image abroad.

So what happens next? President Essebsi is currently drafting a law to put forward to the parliament when it reconvenes in October. Although Ennahdha commands the largest share of parliamentary seats, equal inheritance could still pass even without their support, though it would require Tunisia’s severelyfragmented secular parties to unite. Members of Essebsi’s own party are reportedly divided on his proposal.

A second scenario is that the parliament revises the bill in a way that allows Ennahdha to more easily sell it to its base. One potentially palatable compromise may be the reverse of Essebsi’s: to allow individuals to choose equal inheritance in their wills, but to default to an Islamic understanding in the absence of a will. The default would then still be in line with the Quran, pleasing Ennahdha, but progressives who wish to could now legally choose equal inheritance, a win for Essebsi. The difficulty here is that allowing individuals to freely allocate all of their inheritance contradicts the aforementioned hadith limiting wills to only one-third.

Another compromise would be to maintain the one-third limit, but to lift the restrictions on its use. Individuals could therefore allocate this one-third to female heirs to offset and equalize the two-thirds that will be allocated according to Islamic traditions. While this unrestricted allocation of the one-third is forbidden by the dominant interpretation in Sunni Islam, it is permitted in Shiite Islam, as Islamic feminists often observe. Some Ennahdha figures, including the newly-elected mayor of Tunis, have expressed support for Tunisians having greater freedom on matters of inheritance.

Whether Tunisia will be able to reach a compromise on inheritance will depend on the creativity and audacity of its political leaders. While we can expect a polarizing battle in the coming months, Tunisia has repeatedly surprised observers by coming together at the last minute to find common ground. It is likely to do so again on inheritance.

Sharan Grewal is a postdoctoral research fellow in the Center for Middle East Policy at Brookings. His research examines democratization, security studies, and political Islam in the Arab world, especially Egypt and Tunisia.

His book manuscript, “Soldiers of Democracy,” examines why the Egyptian military staged a coup in 2013 while its Tunisian counterpart supported its country’s democratic transition. His academic work has been published or is forthcoming at Comparative Politics, International Organization, International Studies Quarterly, and the Journal of Conflict Resolution. He has also published for the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, the Project on Middle East Democracy, and the Washington Post’s “Monkey Cage.”

Sharan received a master’s and doctorate in politics from Princeton University and holds a Bachelor of Science, summa cum laude, from Georgetown University. He previously worked for the U.S. State Department.